Wedding His Takeover Target / Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby. Emilie Rose

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      He had an answer for everything, she fumed silently, and it didn’t help that he was right. “Fine. I’ll ride with you. Pops can stay here.”

      Instead of returning to the table, Gavin leaned a hip on the counter right beside her. She scalded her tongue on her first, hasty sip of coffee.

      “Did you know our grandfathers were friends?” Gavin asked.

      “Best friends,” Pops added. “‘Til your grandpappy stiffed me with a bum mine. He claimed he’d found silver chunks the size of a goat’s head in there, but that was bull.”

      “I’ve never found anything that large,” Gavin confirmed, “but I still do a little digging and look for a vein each time I come home.”

      The comment instantly carried her back to the seclusion and intimacy she’d discovered in the mine—not a mental journey she wanted to revisit. She pivoted away. “What would you like for breakfast today, Pops?”

      “Y’might want to ask our guest that since you’re gonna put him to work.”

      She bit the inside of her lip. Gavin wasn’t a guest. He was a temporary employee and a pain in her backside. “Gavin?”

      “Henry’s been bragging about your blueberry pancakes. Might as well see if he’s all talk.”

      “And bacon,” Pops added without a trace of guilt. “Crisp.”

      She glanced from man to man. They’d been discussing her? Why? Surely her grandfather wasn’t matchmaking? He knew better. And he knew what kind of man she preferred—one like Russell. Generous, smart, loyal and fearless, as an army medic her husband had been willing to put his life on the line and even die for any member of his unit—a point he’d proven by throwing himself on a grenade to save his team.

      Egotistical jerks who swaggered around being excessively bossy and sneaky did nothing for her.

      She narrowed her eyes on Gavin. He gave her a half smile. “If you don’t have the ingredients, I could always take you to breakfast at Jarrod Ridge.”

      No way. She’d walk barefoot over broken glass to get what she required before she’d have breakfast with him on his turf. It was bad enough he’d forced his presence on her for the shopping trip and chores, but if she wanted to keep her life flowing in the comfortable groove she’d carved for herself since moving to Aspen, avoiding additional one-on-one time with Gavin was a necessity.

      “I have everything I need. If you’ll excuse me …?” She made a shooing motion with her hand and waited for him to return to his seat at the table before she pivoted back to the pantry.

      She’d made the recipe a hundred times, and she assembled the ingredients by rote. But this time felt different. Her hands were clumsy, her movements awkward as she furiously whisked the egg whites. She realized her frenzied actions were probably giving away more than she intended and deliberately slowed her strokes. She folded the froth to the flour mixture, egg yolks and milk, then ladled the thick liquid onto the hot griddle. The sizzle of butter and batter didn’t drown out the sounds of the men’s voices as they discussed politics, cars and sports. No matter how hard she tried to block them out, she couldn’t escape Gavin’s deep, velvety tone.

      Escaping gained appeal by the second, and it seemed to take forever to fry the final piece of bacon and pile the last golden disk on the platter. She carried the plates to the table and turned to leave.

      “Whoa, girlie. Sit down and eat.”

      “I need to wash the dishes.” She’d done most of the work while cooking, but still—

      “I’ll do them while you’re at the store. You’re not hiding in the office like you did last night. These chores were your idea. You need to contribute to the planning.”

      Her cheeks burned at being called out in front of Gavin, but again, Pops spoke the truth. Refusing to join them would be both ungracious and cowardly. She retrieved her coffee, a carafe of orange juice and three glasses, stalling, she admitted, before returning to the table.

      She had no appetite. How could she when awareness of Gavin made her jittery? Russell had never made her uncomfortable. He’d been dynamic and exciting, but he’d never made her feel crowded, breathless or restless.

      She forced down a pancake without tasting a bite. She’d almost finished when Pops pulled his checkbook from his back pocket. She smiled at his old-fashioned gesture. Almost everyone she knew used debit or credit cards these days. No one wrote paper checks anymore—except Pops.

      “Pops, I can charge our purchase to the inn’s card.”

      “Don’t trust that electronic junk. Too many accounts get hacked.” He made the check out to the store and signed it, leaving the amount spaces blank, then tore it out of the book. She put down her fork to take it, but he passed the check to Gavin.

      Tension snarled in Sabrina’s stomach, turning her fluffy pancake into a lead brick. How could Pops be so trusting to a virtual stranger? He’d literally handed Gavin a blank check.

      It was up to her to make sure Pops’s trust was not abused. She wasn’t letting Gavin Jarrod out of her sight until this job was done and he crawled back under the rock from which he’d come.

      Sabrina surreptitiously checked her watch, willing time to pass quickly.

      “Relax and drink your coffee. The cashier said our order would be ready in an hour,” Gavin said from across the table.

      She pleated her paper napkin. “I’ve never known them to take so long to pull an order.”

      “They only have one guy licensed to drive a forklift working today. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? You barely touched your breakfast.”

      “I’m fine.” With her nerves already stretched to the breaking point, the last thing she needed was more caffeine. As for eating … no way. Her stomach churned like the cement mixer rattling the diner’s windows as it thundered down the street.

      Gavin’s calmness only agitated her more. But then he was getting his way. “Dragging me to a restaurant has been your goal all along. Congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

      “And the enthralled expression on your face will make every woman on the sidewalk want my phone number.”

      His dry sarcasm made her lips twitch. She wasn’t going to like him. No way. Not after the past hour.

      In a store as large as the one they’d just left, how could there have been such a shortage of space that she and her unwanted shopping partner had repeatedly made contact? But they had. Their hands had bumped over banisters and their hips by the hedge trimmers. Every time she’d turned around he’d been in her personal space, crowding her and not giving an inch.

      Her pulse hadn’t been in the normal range since she’d climbed into his cramped truck cab, and she’d gasped so many times while shopping that anyone who didn’t know her would think she had a chronic lung condition.

      How could she get rid of him and still protect Pops? She traced the lip of her mug, then glanced at Gavin. His attention СКАЧАТЬ